“Do what you came here to do!” Hope said. Even though her voice was low, still it sounded loud in this narrow valley. “Do it! We’re here, we’re at the Womb, it’s over there behind us and I cansee the darkness inside.”
“We wait,” Alishia whispered. “We can’t get inside until…”
“Until what?”
“I’ll know when.” Alishia tried to sit up in Hope’s arms but the witch held her tight.
“It’s right there!” Hope said. But she looked into the cave mouth thirty steps away, and its darkness suddenly seemed more solid than any of the rocks surrounding it.
“Be content with waiting and they’ll let us,” Alishia said.
“The Shades of the Land?”
“Yes, them.”
Hope helped Alishia sit up in her lap, and for a while she knew what it would have been like to have a child of her own.
HOPE SPOKE LITTLE, and for that Alishia was glad. The girl was weak and frightened, her bones ached, her muscles knotted and cramped and her scalp itched as her adult’s hair turned into the hair of a child. I’m getting smaller and smaller, she thought, and for the first time she truly contemplated the eventual end of the process. Would it hurt? She hoped not. But the parting words of the Shades stayed with her. And in suffering, you may at last find your soul.
They remained there for some time, waiting for something to happen. Hope found the berries in her pocket and they ate them. They were sweet and sickly, but they both relaxed when the fruit seemed to fill their bellies and take away the cramps.
Alishia drifted in and out of a sleep so deep that it bordered on unconsciousness. She expected to find herself in that giant, dead library again every time she closed her eyes, but she did not return. When she awoke she could not recall any dreams.
As her mind drifted to Trey and what might have become of him, she heard the sound of something approaching the valley ridge.
“Whatis that?” Hope said.
It sounded like many feet hitting the ground at the same time, impacts gentle, their progress rapid. It began as a scratching in the distance, and within a few heartbeats it was right above them, threatening to force its way from the darkness surrounding the valley and birth whatever made the noise into the light.
The witch stood and brandished the disc-sword, but Alishia knew that it would have no effect against whatever was to come.
“It could be the Mages,” she said. “Or it could be something come to save us all.”
On the valley ridge above them, a shadow emerged from the surrounding dusk of Kang Kang.
THEY’RE COMING. The words were whispered along the line from the east, and Kosar heard them and passed them west. They’re coming.
The sounds of the battle in the north had ended an hour before, replaced by the dull, solitary whistle of wind finding channels between rocks. Snow danced across the foothills of Kang Kang, whipping into spirals here and there when the breeze became trapped. Some of these flitting figures seemed possessed of a strange purpose, and Kosar wondered exactly what he was seeing. Snow wraiths? Or wraiths in the air revealed by the snow? None of them came close to him, and they all faded away after a few heartbeats.
“I can’t see anything in this snow,” Lucien said.
“We’ll see them, I’m sure. They won’t be sneaking this way. They’ll becharging. ” Kosar placed his hand flat against the ground. “Can you feel that?”
“What?”
“The ground is shaking.”
“Noreela is afraid,” Lucien said, and for some reason the comment gave Kosar a boost of confidence. If the land itself is afraid, perhaps it will do something to help.
A few moments passed and Kosar stared north, down the hillside and across the plains that ended at the fiery horizon. There was still no movement, and he began to wonder what the Mages’ dark magic could do. Would it make the advancing Krote army invisible? Were they even now crawling carefully up the slopes before them, reaching out, probing with swords until they held every Shantasi warrior a slice from death?
The ground shook some more, and now there was a rumble to accompany it.
“That came from behind!” Lucien said.
“No!” Kosar turned, hefting his sword as though expecting to find a Krote standing behind him. Shantasi all across the hillsides were doing the same, breaking cover and finding new shelter that protected them against an attack from uphill instead of downhill. “This can’t be them!” Kosar said.
“Then what-” Lucien’s words were swallowed by the thunder of what came over the hilltop above them.
Tumblers. Dozens of them, maybe a hundred, pouring over the crest of the hill and bouncing down toward the remnants of the Shantasi army. Some of them were larger than any Kosar had ever seen, the height of three men, and they trailed spiked whips and barbed limbs behind them, slapping at the ground to adjust their downward path.
Scores of Shantasi shouted and turned to run down the hillside. Many more stood their ground and prepared to fight. Kosar knew that both courses of action would be hopeless.
“They’ve got the tumblers fighting for them,” he said. This was the end. These things would snap up hundreds of Shantasi, then they would turn and come back up, then down again, crushing the warriors onto the hides and piercing their bodies with hooks and spikes. They would join the dozens of other corpses already carried by these ancient things, and their steady decay would match that of Noreela.
The lead tumbler reached the first of the Shantasi…and passed them by. Others followed, some of them bouncing over the shapes crouched on the hillsides, others swerving to avoid warriors standing ready to fight.
“Maybe they’re running from something,” Lucien said. “Something happening in Kang Kang.”
Hope, Alishia and Trey, Kosar thought, but then another idea hit him. “More Shantasi weapons!” he said.
Lucien shook his head. “No one controls the tumblers. Not even the Shantasi, with their weird ways. Even in a time of magic the tumblers were always their own.”
“You’re an expert?” Kosar said. “Don’t tell me…you read about them at the Monastery.” He crouched down as a tumbler came close, thundering past faster than any horse could run. He caught a whiff of old rot and aged bones, and then it was away, leaving a pitted trail in the sprinkling of snow where its hooks and spikes had dug in. His heart thumped in his chest. He actually felt thrilled. “What are they doing?” he shouted at Lucien, raising his voice above the cacophony of the tumblers’ charge.
Lucien raised his head above the rock. “We’ll see,” he shouted back. “They’re heading north!”
The last of the tumblers passed by and continued down the slope, dodging Shantasi and plowing furrows in the damp ground. The bones crushed into their strange hides flashed yellow and white in the moonlight. They rumbled north across the plain, and minutes later Kosar saw the first blossoming explosion of a Krote machine meeting its end.
“In the name of the Black, they’re helping us!” Kosar said. Shouts rose up from the Shantasi scattered across the hillsides, cheers and calls, and metal gleamed as swords and slideshocks were waved in celebration.
“They’ll still get through,” Lucien said. “The Krotes will sweep the tumblers aside, and they’ll get through.”
“But every second counts,” Kosar said, and he laughed. Actually laughed. And it felt so good, he did it some more.
LENORA LED THE charge, riding her machine hard toward the first low hills of Kang Kang. She expected the second Shantasi attack to come at any moment. If they had any sense of war at all-and she knew that the Shantasi had found cause to fight many times through their history-they would have a second line of defense between here and Kang Kang, probably upon those first low slopes. They would have had longer to dig in and prepare defenses, and they would have seen the signs of their First Army’s destruction. Anger and fear gave a soldier more power. Hate drove him or her harder. This coming fight would be more vicious, but Lenora was not afraid of that.